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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28720992">Too fast and too suddenly</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/wallyreads/pseuds/wallyreads'>wallyreads</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stranger Things (TV 2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Ending, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Billy Hargrove Deserves Better, Billy Hargrove Lives, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Good Parent Joyce Byers, Heavy Angst, Hurt, Hurt Steve Harrington, Hurt/Comfort, Jonathan Byers &amp; Steve Harrington Friendship, M/M, Parent Joyce Byers, Protective Jonathan Byers, Protective Joyce Byers, References to Depression, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Steve Harrington Has Nightmares, Steve Harrington Is a Mess, Steve Harrington Needs Love, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Steve Harrington-centric, Trauma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:13:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,933</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28720992</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/wallyreads/pseuds/wallyreads</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>But that all changed, too fast and too suddenly, like the moment in between awake and sleep, where you don’t really remember how one thing lead to another. Can’t recall the moment, can’t recognise the difference between awake and sleep, but then suddenly it’s the next morning, and everything from the night before, from the time between then and now, is all just a memory, a blur in your mind in which you can never truly remember. That’s what it felt like to lose Billy. </p><p>or</p><p>A year after Billy assumingly dies, Steve, whilst struggling to cope with his loss, starts to realise that Billy might not be completely gone.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Billy Hargrove &amp; Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Jonathan Byers/Steve Harrington, Joyce Byers &amp; Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley &amp; Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington &amp; Dustin Henderson, Steve Harrington &amp; Jim "Chief" Hopper, Steve Harrington &amp; The Party</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Too fast and too suddenly</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>tw - self harm, death, depression, unhealthy habits, habits that could turn into an eating disorder, ptsd, trauma</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Steve never cared much for Christmas. It was just another holiday to remind him of how alone he really was, how much his parents didn’t care, how much his friends could do better. Just another holiday to remind him who he was, an echo of the words he’s heard many times coming to life, proof that he was, and will forever be, alone.</p><p>But then he had Billy, holding his hand, and brushing his fingers through his hair, and kissing him on the good days and the bad nights, and holding him, and <em>loving him</em>, even when he couldn’t love himself. And he wasn’t so alone anymore.</p><p>And suddenly, like the flash of brightness when lightning strikes, Christmas was his favourite holiday. Suddenly, he loved the smell of gingerbread, because it reminded him of Christmas dinner at the Byers, surrounded by his friends, his real family, his <em>Billy</em>. Suddenly mistletoe wasn't just a plant. Suddenly, opening presents didn’t mean sitting by an empty tree, drinking his sorrows away with his fathers alcohol collection, and instead meant watching the kids’ faces light up with every new comic book or t-shirt they received, the laughter of the older kids and the parents at their reactions.</p><p>Suddenly it meant Billy pulling him away from the chaos, away where there was quiet, where it was just them, before giving him his heart, his soul, his love. His mother’s necklace, the most important thing to him before he met Steve.</p><p>And suddenly the snowy days, days he thought he would never learn to love, soon became his favourite, where he could spend it cuddled up next to Billy, under a blanket and by a fireplace, whispering sweet nothings to each other until they fell asleep, contempt, happy, in love. <em>Together</em>.</p><p>Suddenly, Christmas meant love, and family, and warmth, and everything Steve thought it should be, expected it to be. Suddenly he had that, suddenly he had all he ever could have wanted. And he was happy, he was <em>so fucking happy </em>to have that, to have what he thought he never would, what he thought he didn’t deserve.</p><p>But that all changed, too fast and too suddenly, like the moment in between awake and sleep, where you don’t really remember how one thing lead to another. Can’t recall the moment, can’t recognise the difference between awake and sleep, but then suddenly it’s the next morning, and everything from the night before, from the time between then and now, is all just a memory, a blur in your mind in which you can never truly remember. That’s what it felt like to lose Billy.</p><p>One moment he was there, and Steve could remember it all so vividly, like he never left. The way he smiled whenever Steve would say something stupid, or how tight he would hold him at night, scared that he would be gone by the time he woke up. The way his eyes would gleam and his smile would soften whenever Billy thought Steve wasn’t paying attention, that Steve wouldn’t notice the longing, <em>loving</em> stare Billy always seemed to have when it came to him. The way Billy was so gentle, so careful with Steve, his hands, his words, his <em>lips</em>.</p><p>But then, within another moment, he was gone, like a dream you can’t quite remember, a name on the tip of your tongue you can’t quite reach, the feeling of knowing but not having, the feeling of losing, but not realising. He was gone, so fast, all at once, but the feeling of it still so slow, like noticing your ice has melted, wondering <em>how long has it been melted for? When did it melt? When did he go?</em></p><p>And that time in between was a foreign concept to Steve, something he tried hopelessly to remember, to understand, but just couldn’t seem to grasp enough of it to hold on to. And that’s what hurt the most, what haunted him more than anything else. And suddenly, he hated Christmas again.</p><p>And the ache, the pain he felt was almost unbearable. Something he’s never felt before, something he never expected to experience, not yet, not now, not like this. A heartbreak worse than a heartbreak, too harsh and too sudden, a sting, and a burn, and an ache worse than what those Russians ever did to him. Worse than what his parents ever did to him, what Nancy ever did to him. And it was heavy, a deep feeling within his chest and his stomach and his head and his heart. And it burned and burned and cut and gnawed at him until there was nothing left. Nothing but an empty shell of the boy he once was, so naïve and unloved and alone. A fire burning in his soul, getting hotter and deeper, until everything that once was Steve Harrington was now reduced to nothing more than ash.</p><p>And no one understood, how much it affected Steve, no one really. Their relationship was a secret, something they shared behind closed doors, in the dark, when no one was paying attention, when no one bothered to look, to notice. Max was the closest to understanding the pain, losing her brother, not realising how much she actually cared, how much Billy had meant to her until it was too late, until he was gone. Steve remembered Max crying to him, head buried into his chest, arms wrapped tightly around his waist, worried that Billy didn’t know how much she cared, that she did love him. Devastated that she never told him how she felt, that she couldn't even say goodbye to his body.</p><p>That was the hardest part, Steve thought. Not being able to say goodbye, to see him one last time, to tell him that he loved him. They never found his body, but they didn’t expect to, not after everything that happened to all the others. But that didn’t stop Steve from looking, every day, every night, desperate to find something, <em>anything</em>. It wasn’t until Joyce found him, lying almost dead in the cold one winter night, that he knew it was over, that he needed to stop. He didn’t remember much from that night, except sobbing into Joyce as she held him, letting him cry it all out, telling him that it was going to be okay. He didn’t believe it, couldn’t, but for one moment he let himself be fooled, let himself pretend that she was right, that it would all be okay. But somewhere deep down, where the fire still burned away at what was left of him, he knew it wouldn’t get better, that he would never be the same. Not again, not after Billy.</p><p>That’s how he felt now, the week before Christmas. It had been a year since everything happened, but Steve felt more alone than he ever had. He knew it was his own fault, pushing people away tends to do that. He learnt that from his parents, but despite how much he despised them for it, he couldn’t help it, isolating himself off from the outside world, from anyone that cared about him. Because he didn’t see the point anymore.</p><p>But that didn’t stop a few of them from checking in on him every now and again. Joyce and Jonathan brining him a homecooked meal at least once a week, Hopper stopping by every now and again to make sure he’s doing okay, Dustin trying always to get Steve to hang out, Robin breaking in to his house to just be there, to help him feel less alone. Max was the only person Steve really found himself letting in, opening up to, but he still didn’t speak much. Didn’t have the energy to, not anymore.</p><p>And he had some good days, some days where he would laugh at one of Robin’s stupid jokes, or where Dustin and Max would convince him to have a shower, and go out with them to the movies or the arcade, or where he would eat a little more than usual, causing Joyce to smile in hope that it was helping, that he was getting better. Days where Jonathan would just sit with him, be with him, telling him stories until he actually found himself falling asleep for the first time in weeks, found peace and solace for a moment before his brain turned back on and he remembered. But the bad outweighed the good on most days, and a day didn’t go by where he wasn’t thinking of him. Of <em>his Billy</em>.</p><p>And the nightmares, and the terrors plagued most of his nights, and the constant waking up drenched in his own sweat, screaming and crying out for Billy had him so tired, so fucking exhausted that it would keep him awake longer than his body was able to be. Keep him awake until he was throwing up from exhaustion and passing out on the floor, because he couldn’t physically stand anymore.</p><p>And it was hard, no one understanding what was happening. Most of them thought it was just how he was coping, with the trauma of everything that happened; the mind flayer, the demo-dogs, the Russians, Starcourt. Any normal person would go clinically insane after everything that Steve or any of the others went through, so it wasn’t unusual for them to think that what had happened must’ve broken him, caused a mental break, caused him to go insane. Robin knew it was deeper than that, the only one knowing that Steve even liked guys. He never told her about Billy, but she was smart, and it wasn’t hard for her to figure out <em>why</em> Steve was breaking so much. But she never spoke of it, didn’t want to make it worse for him, wanted to help him <em>forget</em>.</p><p>There was a point where they didn’t think it could get worse. But apparently for Steve, crying every night, not eating in weeks, refusing to speak to everyone wasn't his worst, wasn't his ultimate low. No, his ultimate low involved his wrist, and any sharp object he could find, because at least then he was feeling <em>something</em>.</p><p>But then one night, while he was sat on his bed, staring at the wall, no energy to sleep but no energy to do anything else, the hairs on his arms stood up, the white noise around him freezing in time. And that’s when he heard it. A sound he thought he would never hear again, one that brought tears to his eyes, held more memories than he thought he had. A noise that was wholly <em>Billy</em>. Thick and dark and heavy, the revving on an engine, of <em>his</em> engine. A ‘79 Chevrolet Camaro, the same one Billy drove into the school parking lot his first day, the same one they shared their first kiss in, the same one that was completely and entirely <em>Billy</em>, all violent and charming and dangerous and <em>his.</em></p><p>The same ‘79 Chevrolet Camaro lost a year ago.</p><p>And Steve couldn’t explain the feeling, couldn’t organise his thoughts, process what was happening. All he knew is that, that sound, that feeling, was his. Was <em>his Billy</em>. A feeling he’s wished for, ached for, <em>longed for</em>, for so long, a feeling just out of reach. And somehow, now, he knew all the answers, knew exactly what was happening, what it meant, what he needed to do.</p><p>And he breathed for the first time, in what seemed like months, and he felt his heart in his ears and his pulse thumping in his head.</p><p>And suddenly, he didn’t feel like crying anymore.</p>
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